


the man that made us

by remy (iamremy)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 300th episode, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Wincest, POV Dean Winchester, Sam and Dean talk about John, Sharing a Bed, Spoilers for 14x13 Lebanon, Spooning, post episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 19:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/remy
Summary: Sam and Dean talk about John, and what it means to be able to see him again.





	the man that made us

**Author's Note:**

> my fingers were itching to write this coda, no joke. i just HAD to. it's half past five in the morning and i don't CARE i refused to let myself sleep till i completed this.
> 
> what an episode it was. i'm still mindblown. it was literally PERFECT, and so much better than anything i could have expected. j2, jdm and sam smith were all PHENOMENAL, and i'm not kidding when i say i CRIED. spn really knows how to make milestone eps memorable, huh?

“You know what?” Mary’s voice is wooden; forced. “Why don’t you boys catch Cas up, and I’ll – uh, I’ll just go to bed? I’m tired.”

It’s clear to Dean that “tired” is actually a direct translation of “I’m gonna go cry my eyes out and I want privacy while I do it” and while everything in him is screaming to not let her out of his sight, he swallows it down and gives her a tight little smile, and squeezes her hand as she passes him by on the way to her room. She smiles back at him, a watery little thing, and squeezes his hand back, and stops to press a kiss to Sam’s cheek.

“What happened?” Castiel asks, finally reaching them.

Dean sighs. “Long story, man. Might wanna sit down for this.”

“Sure,” Cas says after a pause. “What happened to your faces?”

“You did, actually,” Dean tells him.

Castiel looks confused. “What?”

“Like I said, long story,” Dean tells him.

It takes him a moment to realize that Sam’s not following him and Cas to the library, and another to realize he’s not there at all. At some point, Sam sneaked away, and he was so quiet about it that Dean didn’t even hear him, and Dean’s heart constricts in his chest.

“Dean?”

He turns to find Cas looking at him, head tilted in confusion. “Is Sam all right?”

Dean shakes his head. “Not really, no. None of us are.”

Cas nods. “I assumed as much.”

Dean exhales slowly. “It’s been… a tough day,” he says.

“I understand,” Cas says a moment later. “Your explanation can wait, Dean. Right now I feel like Sam needs you more.”

Dean does not hesitate at grabbing the out Cas is giving him. “Right,” he says, quick, “okay, I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later, okay, Cas?”

And he’s already walking before Cas has a chance to respond, though Cas calls a “Take care!” after him anyway.

 

Dean finds Sam in his room, curled up in bed facing away from the door. And that’s unusual in itself, because Sam _never_ sleeps with his back to the door no matter how safe he feels.

“Hey,” he says quietly, shutting the door behind himself and making his way to Sam’s bed. When Sam doesn’t respond, Dean sits down on the bed and reaches out, letting his hand hover over Sam’s shoulder for a few seconds before finally setting it down.

That’s when he realizes Sam’s shaking, tremors so minute coursing through his entire body that Dean didn’t know they were there till he touched him. Now that he’s paying attention, though, it’s kind of obvious – Sam was already crying to begin with, and now that he’s in his room and away from everyone else it makes sense that it would get more intense.

“Hey,” he repeats, stroking his thumb back and forth on Sam’s shoulder, “Sammy, hey—”

At that, Sam turns and curls himself up even further, until his head is resting on one of Dean’s thighs and his fingers are tangled in the hem of Dean’s shirt. Dean’s heart lodges itself in his throat at the sight of Sam’s tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, his own eyes welling up in response, and all he can do is stroke Sam’s hair, running his fingers through the silk and softness of it.

“I want him back,” Sam murmurs, voice cracking. He doesn’t look up at Dean, but his fingers tighten in Dean’s shirt.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean says, his voice low as well. “I do too, Sammy.”

“It’s not fair,” Sam says, fresh tears falling down his face, long eyelashes clumped together. “D, it’s not _fair_.”

“I know,” Dean repeats, and his voice breaks too, and his heart along with it. “I know, Sammy, baby, I know.”

Sam moves again, letting up a little and giving Dean space to move, and time to compose himself again. He waits till Dean is sitting with his back against the headboard, and then lays back down with his head in Dean’s lap. “I wish—I wish he’d stayed longer,” he says, sniffling.

Instead of replying, Dean lets his hand fall into Sam’s hair again. Sam closes his eyes at the contact, more tears escaping his eyes, and then says, voice shaking, “I didn’t want – I didn’t want to be the one to do it. To – to make him go away.”

Dean’s heart breaks further into fragments so small he has to wonder if he'll ever find them all. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That you had to do it.”

“I didn’t want you or Mom to, either,” Sam tells him after a moment. “So when he asked me – I did it. But I didn’t want to, Dean.”

Great, now Dean’s crying again, too.

“All I wanted is for us to be a proper family,” he says, running his fingers through Sam’s hair in slow, tender movements. “And – and I’m glad we got that, even if it wasn’t nearly long enough.”

“Me too,” Sam says after a few moments. “But – _God_ , Dean – I miss him so much it _hurts_. Always have but it was fine, you know, I – I had a handle on it, and now I just—” He pauses, sniffles again, lip wobbling, and he looks all of five again, and Dean is tempted to – to wrap him up in his arms, to keep him safe, to dry his tears and make him smile again, but this time he has no idea how.

“Now I just can’t stop thinking about him,” Sam finishes quietly.

“It’s better, though, right?” Dean says, after a few moments of introspection. “I mean, we got to see him again, right, and talk to him, and—”

“He apologized, you know,” Sam cuts in, turning his head so he can look up at Dean. Without really thinking about it, Dean pulls the sleeve of his shirt over his free hand and wipes at Sam’s face, gently sweeping away the tears. Sam lets him, giving him a shaky, pale little smile before continuing. “Said he was sorry for – well, everything.”

“And what did you say?” Dean asks a moment later, letting his hand fall away from Sam’s face.

“Said that he fought for us, and he loved us, and that was enough.” Sam turns his head again, letting Dean get back to stroking his hair, and closes his eyes. “And – and that when I thought of him, it wasn’t the fights I remembered.”

That Dean knows. He remembers all too well what Sam had been like after they’d lost their dad, the nights where he’d thought Dean was asleep, crying so hard into his pillow that he hadn’t made a sound. It had hurt then, to think of Sam feeling so alone in his grief, feeling like he couldn’t come to Dean with it, and it hurts now, to think that Dean was so wrapped up in his own pain that he’d somehow isolated Sam.

“Well, at least that’s better now, right?” he says quietly in the end. “It’s not how you’ll remember him now.”

“Yeah,” Sam says after a moment, opening his eyes. “Yeah,” he says again, and his voice breaks.

“He told me he wishes I’d had a family, a peaceful and normal life,” Dean tells Sam, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “And I told him I already had a family.” He smiles to himself, and then down at Sam, and smooths some of his hair away from his face. “And I do, Sammy. Maybe it’s not the kind of family I thought I’d have, but I don’t care. It’s a good one, and I’m glad I get to have it.”

Sam’s answering smile is a little shaky, but it’s real, and it makes the vice around Dean’s heart loosen a little. “Me too,” he says in the end, and reaches out to take Dean’s free hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “And – and I’m glad we got the chance, you know. To – to see him again, to talk to him, to – to say a real goodbye.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “A second chance. It’s more than what anyone gets.”

Sam hums in assent, his thumb stroking over Dean’s. They stay like that a while, one of Dean’s hands in Sam’s hair, the other holding Sam’s hand, both of them lost to their own thoughts and memories, the versions of their father they’d carried around with them their whole lives.

Then Sam murmurs, sounding sleepy now, “We’ve gotta check on Mom in the morning.”

“Yeah,” says Dean, and yawns. “Yeah, we’ll do that. Gotta update Cas, too.”

“Mm,” says Sam, letting go of Dean’s hand and getting up on his elbows to give Dean space to get up. Dean does so, stretching, and then makes to get off the bed.

Sam moves quickly, before Dean can stand, and grabs his wrist. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Dean? Stay. Please,” he adds when Dean takes a moment too long to respond.

It’s the eyes that do him in, in the end. It always is.

“Yeah, Sammy,” he says, and kicks his shoes off before getting back in bed, this time under the covers. He’s still in jeans and a shirt, and so is Sam, and they’re both too big for Sam’s bed, which is smaller than Dean’s and only has the one pillow, but that’s all right. None of that matters right now anyway.

“You okay?” Sam asks him when he’s settled, as if _he’s_ the one who’s been found crying in bed.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, and is surprised to find he believes it. “I will be. Come on now,” he adds, “go to sleep, Sammy. You’ve gotta be tired as hell after today, man – I know I am.”

“I am too,” Sam tells him, and then turns on his side, his back to Dean. Dean takes the chance to move a little closer, to throw an arm over Sam’s waist, to entangle their legs and press his lips into the back of Sam’s neck and kiss the soft skin there.

“’Night, baby,” he whispers into Sam’s hair, and Sam shudders.

“Goodnight, Dean,” he whispers back, putting his hand over Dean’s and moving behind, closing the last inch of space between them.

Dean’s right about how tired Sam is – the kid is out like a light in just a few minutes, breathing evening out and fingers going lax over Dean’s. And Dean’s tired too, soul-tired, brain numb to everything except the warmth of Sam’s body against his, and if this were any other time, he’d be _very_ interested in the fact that he can feel Sam’s ass even through their clothing.

But Sam’s spent a good portion of the day crying, and so has Dean, and they’ve just barely stepped off the emotional rollercoaster this day has been, and they’re just… tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and all Dean wants to do now is close his eyes, inhale his brother’s scent, and breathe it in as he falls asleep.

So he does it – he tightens the arm around Sam’s waist, and he moves forward until it feels like he’ll melt into Sam’s body and become a part of him forever, the way they already are in every way. And he kisses the back of Sam’s neck again, and murmurs “Sweet dreams” against his ear, and presses one more kiss to his shoulder before closing his eyes and letting sleep claim him.

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts? comments? feedback? emotions about the episode? comment pls!
> 
> love,  
> remy x


End file.
